I only borrow
From some tomorrow
Where it lies sleeping,
Enough of sorrow
To sing of weeping.
Vintage
Heartbreak that is too new
Can not be used to make
Beauty that will startle;
That takes an old heartbreak.
Old heartbreaks are old wine.
Too new to pour is mine.
The Kiss
Your kiss lies on my face
Like the first snow
Upon a summer place.
Bewildered by that wonder,
The grasses tremble under
The thing they do not know.
I tremble even so.
Free
Over and over
I tell the sky:
I am free — I!
Over and over I tell the sea:
— I am free!